


Finding History

by Phritzie



Series: Drinking Buddies [1]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Convenient Plot Twists, Memory Loss, Mild Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 03:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phritzie/pseuds/Phritzie
Summary: The Guardian of Gielinor has had better days, taking to drinking and sleazing it up to avoid the loneliness of her responsibilities. Felix makes a disturbing discovery about why it's really, really important to ask people for their names before you hook up with them. And why it's a terrible idea to argue drunk.





	Finding History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Domimagetrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domimagetrix/gifts).



> The beginning of Felix's adventure! :-) Domimagetrix spawned this with her awesome fiction and inspiring WG / Original Character, Razwan Bahir.
> 
> I'm not really sure how to tag aspects of this, but be assured there's no graphic liberties taken with anyone. Someone is kissed while super drunk and gets touched pretty inappropriately while they're choking someone else, though.

Through a swinging door, the squeaking of cartwheels on worn cobblestones and the sound of voices across the street spilled into the Flying Horse Inn. Felix hauled herself through the crowded space, regulars parting and tucking their feet under barstools with little comment. She wasn’t a fresh face by any standard, but her penchant for travel put a damper on most friendships, and as such, only one person moved to greet her.

“What’s the latest?” Val shined out a fresh glass and set it down in front of her. Felix didn’t bother to inspect the scarred up parchment nailed to the wall proclaiming the fare. There would be nothing new to see. The place had kept the same kitchen and cellar for years. Beside her a man was face down in his cups, bare arms pillowing his head atop the bar. “Do you have any leads on that key?”

“Time-traveling,” Felix blurted, rolling the empty glass between her hands, “it controls time. I’ll have your fresh draft… in a little while. Six of them.” After a long look of disbelief Val shook her head and left to attend someone else. That was fine by her — no one ever gave her any notice when she was being minded by the proprietors.

Kicking back her neighbor’s abandoned dredges, Felix spared a look behind her. There were always a few new faces in the Flying Horse, mainly due to Ardougne’s never-ending constabulary recruitment effort. The turnaround was good for Felix but stressful for the people who lived thereabouts. It seemed every man and woman in the surrounding area had heard of the fall of King Lathas, and they'd all promptly offered their services to Thoros. What remained of his support was constantly protesting that reorganization of the kingdom’s defenses, ignorant to the dark implications of doing so. It almost made her feel bad for killing him.

Her gaze traveled slowly from table to table, sizing up individuals before moving on. Brown eyes flickered past a delicious silhouette, backtracked, and then stopped.

One woman stood out to her tonight.

Felix licked her lips clean of the swill her snoring companion had been drinking. Her tall, dark-skinned body was leaning against the back of a man’s chair as she laughed at his angry shouting. His bluster and rude gestures about what seemed to be a simple disagreement over history were drawing the attention of several patrons. Eyes alight with amusement at the spectacle, her newest fascination raised a bottle filled with amber to a full, inviting mouth for a swallow.

The woman's gaze flicked up to meet Felix’s and then slid away like oil against the surface of water.

_Well, well, well._

Felix probably couldn’t count on both hands the number of times she'd been scoped out in a bar that week — the fair trappings of a fast lifestyle. But this person seemed especially intrigued since having taken notice of her. They traded glances all night, Val dropping off and retrieving her discarded drinks periodically.

Eventually the people the mysterious woman had appeared to be socializing with excused themselves, an older gentleman who had seemed oddly hopeful about his chances to keep the lady company finally retiring upstairs. Two other men went stumbling out the door minutes later.

It was late enough to draw her concern for the madam’s wellbeing, seeing as she had no one to accompany her home... but did such a stately figure really need the help? Felix appraised her again, and found that no matter how she turned her dizzied head, it didn’t seem to matter much what the woman was wearing. The opaque cloth could have been ragged burlap. Felix wouldn’t have batted an eye. And _Gods_ those strong, lean arms.

She blinked wearily and glanced down into her glass. It shimmered glaringly in the barlight.

A voice came too near her ear — “Are you done?” — and Felix yelped quietly as she spun forward.

“Valorie, please,” she muttered. “I’m never done. Who is that?” She made to indicate the woman behind her with a subtle gesture but perhaps the delivery was more theatrical than intended when it upended her drink, spilling the beer. It flowed quickly over the counter.

“You are tonight!” Val groused, crossing her arms and scowling down at the mess. “After you clean this up and go ask for yourself.”

“I haven’t done a thing,” Felix insisted loudly. “That was your fault and its obvious to everyone here.” At that pronouncement she swept the rest of the frothing beer away with an arm and righted the glass, standing to leave. The inn around her was incredibly quiet, hardly a head or two remaining, and she realized gloomily that the beautiful seductress she had been wooing from afar all night had departed.

Through the haze, she felt a pinch of disappointment. “Damn.”

“Go home, Felix,” the barmaid warned half-heartedly. _Before I kick you out for real,_ was the unsaid implication.

She could take a hint though. It wasn't like there was anything keeping her. She spared a clumsy pat for the poor sod still ass-deep in oblivion beside her, and left.

The night air bit at her skin. Felix simply drew her gray cloak nearer, slapping a hand against each wall she passed on the way to the city gates. She had settled somewhere just outside the mill, electing to camp beneath the stars. But she hadn’t quite planned on becoming so wasted before slinking home to her bedroll. _What's in the beer here, seriously?_

“I haven’t been this hosed since my last birthday.”

She continued to mutter shrewd observations to herself, skipping around the rotting discards of the market vegetable stalls. They rose into steep piles to her left and stunk of cabbages. _And who bothers with those anymore._ "Not even urchins would want nasty old cabbage..."

The night was growing darker, unnaturally so. She ducked below the eaves of a small house and slipped a bit climbing over a fence. _Almost there._ It was getting pretty creepy out. Felix was a poor shot in low light but the worst the surrounding forests had to offer was moss giants, and those lichen-covetting ents bedded down early.

The River Dougne turned down the ground before her. Without thinking she leapt it in a single bound, pausing at a large boulder to catch her breath.

A voice drew her eyes into the woods with a start.

“My. You are slight, but I had forgotten just how agile.” It seemed to come echoing from several places, though she could see the woman standing there before her very well.

“I’ve been working on my agility, actually,” Felix offered lamely, still a bit shocked.

“It shows,” she purred, and took a few steps forward. Her lips were curved in a gentle grin, as though Felix had just told an excellent joke and she was trying not to laugh. The wind lifted her collar minutely, exposing a long and creamy chestnut throat. “Wouldn’t you join me on a stroll? I was just on my way home.”

With a dry gulp, she realized she'd already begun to move forward. "Me too,” Felix whispered, and she hardly protested the hand on her shoulder as the woman led her quietly towards the footpath that would eventually take them back into the city. The woman sent her a soft, dimpled smile and her heart began to beat harder.

 _What are we doing?_ She didn’t feel right. The dark was too dark, and the world from where she stood looked like it was bending outwards, nearly black at its corners. The light from the streetlamps, which had arrived so soon, was also unusually dim. She looked away and then back again, but the dreamy qualities of her surroundings did not abate. The woman in front of her was solid, though, and her long, lithe legs and quick feet navigated the streets like she belonged there.

 _Maybe she’s lived here forever_ , Felix thought. They turned down a short alleyway and she held open a gated fence for the stranger. If she squinted, their aura glowed. _One of those, ‘I’m a local and this city is as much a part of me as I am of it’ sort of people_. But the woman was of very few words, her soft and insistent touches saying more as she guided Felix to a heavy, reinforced door.

Where were they? Her home, already?

_I must be so much more tired than I thought._

Inside the woman turned to face her expectantly. The candles which now illuminated them were such a comfort that she was nearly afraid to leave.

_Why is it so dark outside?_

Felix lifted her bleary eyes to the sight of long, red-tipped fingers — cool nails grazed her cheeks, fleeting, and then reached past the loose hair around her shoulders to undo the clasps on her cloak, lifting the length of it away to stow on a peg. She shivered at its loss and was immediately encircled by firm arms, an embrace so warm and inviting that she felt like she was sinking into it.

Then she was _weightless_. She was being transported, in her mind and body, to a plane that was infinitely soft. She waved her palm in a small circle and it caught against silk, twisting the material into a small peak that tickled her when she rubbed against it. Felix sighed, and the air blew against the woman’s cheek.

“I think I’ll knock off for now,” she whispered, thinking suddenly of the historian she was meant to visit. “Did you know this was where humans first came to Gielinor?” The question went unanswered and she thought perhaps it had been only a thought, but sudden kisses on her throat and neck made sure she didn’t care.

Wherever Felix was, it was quite nice, and the indulgent way the woman was caressing her numbed and tingling body was enough to keep her from wondering why living darkness was beating at the window, a thick frame that seemed to hang in the air and allowed only thin shafts of moonlight through its portal.

“Then sleep. I’ll take very good care of you, Felix.”

The woman extinguished a flame — a red sputter followed by sweet smoke. It plunged them into that near-blackness, gathering Felix up in its shadowy hands and tucking her deeply into a bed. _I hope this is a bed._

“I drank too much,” Felix admitted to herself quietly, and then there was no light at all.

 

* * *

 

When she woke it was because of how utterly frozen her feet were.

Pulling her knees to her chest and shuddering loudly didn’t help too much, so she opened her eyes and struggled into a kneeling position. Her tent, though cozy, was quite lowly pitched, and with shoulders hunched she peered out the flap into the morning fog.

“Well," she sighed. "How lovely."

Felix wasn’t very fond of the Kandarin climate. She greatly preferred the dry heat of the desert and the warm humidity of the isles.

Taking a small bunch of kindling from her pack, she threw some logs on the ashes and charcoal of last night’s fire and got to lighting a small blaze to cook her breakfast. As she was doing so she paused, arrested by the sight of slight footprints which had been left in the moist ground. Were those hers? She cast a glance at her boots and frowned. No… most certainly not.

The fire caught and began to smoke. Felix examined the scene of her campsite. Her tent was strung neatly between two large oaks in a small clearing filled with boulders and old orchard barrels that had succumbed to rot. A set of footprints, just slightly too large to be hers, tracked unmistakably from the opening of her camp to a fair distance beyond it, perhaps thirty feet. Some she noted were planted right beside the tent and fire itself.

Calmly retrieving her bow, Felix rose and proceeded to investigate. But after much searching and paranoia, she returned to her then-happily crackling fire to find that there was really nothing much else out of place.

 _What happened last night,_ she thought miserably, and though her head neither ached nor pounded, she knew then that she had been out drinking.

_I’m going to get myself killed or worse one of these days._

When she wasn’t busy tackling orders issued by the troubled citizens of lands stretching from one end of the world to the next, Felix had lately taken to the poor habit of getting as absolutely sauced as she could. Along the way, and perhaps too often, she might have fallen into bed with somebody. The count was a little muddied for her, but it was growing.

“I hope I bothered to learn their name...”

 

* * *

 

Daylight fled in the season of shedding trees as though it was being hunted, and Felix soon found herself holed up in Shilo Village. Kind man that he was, Kaleb had seen the state of her and agreed to a few nights rental of a room on good faith. She would make a tidy trip next morning to collect his payment at the bank.

Stripping in silence, wincing slightly at each pull against her ground-sore neck and spine, she thought very hard about her dalliance.

_Well, well, well…_

Squeezing both eyes shut, she hit the woven mattress and tried to conjure that night in her mind. What they looked like, smelled like, sounded like. Anything. But her memory produced only a scattered handful of images that when pieced together formed a dark, mysterious lady. The shadows of drink were obscuring the larger picture.

The idea that she might never recall her was definitely troubling, but Felix wasn't sure it would prove wise to run, either. The pull of sleep was strong on her as night fell.

With a yawn, she resolved to return to Ardougne in the morning and seek out the woman for answers.

 

* * *

 

_“Tell me what it is you like the most, my sweet.”_

_“Here. Gods, please... right here, touch me here.”_

_“Yes… that is what you need. Tell me you need it.”_

_“Oh, I do, I need it."_

Heat, filling the space in her head where language dwells. Her hands, tight around something sturdy and unmoving.

_"Tell me you want more."_

_"I—"_

Torturous pauses, a punishment, a question.

_"Felix?"_

_"I want more!"_

The chorus of their voices hissing and groaning, driving her mad, pulling her in.

_"Tell me how good I feel."_

_"You feel incredible. Incredible..."_

The unending swell and drag of cold and impenetrable shadows.

_“Isn’t this better? Isn’t this everything you’ve always wanted?”_

_“Yes, oh Gods. Your face— I need to see your face—”_

_“If you insist.”_

 

* * *

 

Dragging herself upright, Felix heaved in the moist jungle air, one breath after the other, the next no more calming than the last.

_What the hell was that?_

Her eyes darted in search of the water jug provided in each room and she took the whole of it in her grasp, drinking as much of it as she could before throwing the remainder over her face and torso.

Shaking, she rose and stumbled to the door, hoping and pleading with whoever might hear that someone else would be awake. Dimly she could make out the sound of Kaleb humming downstairs. _Good_. She wasn’t alone, at least.

Sitting on the floor of her room she dug into her bag and found a small bottle of rum. She nursed it for an hour, attempting to process what she had dreamed. It was not the _worst_ imagery her mind was capable of conjuring, not even a bit. Felix frequently had nightmares on all manner of subjects, the spiritual representations of her anxieties and the very real dangers of the world coming together in terrifying harmony.

It also was not the first time she had dreamed of Sliske.

“Just not quite like that,” Felix said grimly, and when she moved to drink from the bottle again she found it already spent. Putting it to the side, she stretched and laid down again, turning to face the wall. She distracted herself from the feeling of unseen hands and slick skin by tracing patterns in the wood.

Felix had on several occasions woken in a state of complete fear, scared witless of the dark and seething with phantom pain from memories of excruciating torture. Sometimes, stress manifested itself as the wailing cries of everyone she knew and loved being murdered, undercut only by the unforgettable cackle of skeletal maniacs or other, equally crude adversaries. But she had never thought... not _once_.

Pulling out her journal, Felix began to write. Small notes. Memories that remained from the dream, what she had done that day. Even what she had eaten. When that was finished she breathed deeply and exhaled, hoping in some way that the ritual would relax her, but it did not.

A good friend of hers at the Wizard’s Tower had once admonished her for being so unsettled by dreams; they were, "the protecting and sacred painters of the mind, that which allowed one to process their feelings and aspirations through familiar landscapes." The Moon Clan showed her that such a philosophy was not so far from reality, but the very concept of what she had just experienced dogged her late into the night. She tried doodling, and it helped a little.

It was a long time before she fell asleep again, the fuzzy, orange Karamjan sun blooming from beyond the horizon.

 

* * *

 

When she had last encountered Sliske, he had been mad with delight at her actions. It was just after the trap he had laid for Zamorak had been revealed. 

The enormous mahjarrat approached the Stone, intent on siphoning it and regaining some of his lost godliness, when Felix was struck with the terrible realization that she could not let that come to pass. Using the last of the divine energies absorbed in the fight, she had hurled a blast of cosmic power at Zamorak, a ball of sizzling blue light. Shocked but pleased, Sliske had transported the Stone and them into the shadow realm, a place between places. But she hadn't been in any way pleased with him.

In fact, Felix would say she hated him very much, if for nothing more than being an asshole. His crimes were unforgivable, and he only seemed to grow more powerful the longer they fought. As the World Guardian, she felt it would ultimately be her responsibility to find a way to kill him, and avenge the death of Guthix.

 _So why am I here, getting drunk on swill looking for that woman, instead of racing to stop him?_ Felix resisted the urge to rub her face. Her hands, which had been in many places today, were not washed. Instead, she continued to interrogate Val.

“And you’re certain you didn’t see her? I mean, she was a _knockout_.” The barmaid shook a hand through her hair in agitation.

“I’m telling you right now—No. I didn’t. In fact, you didn’t leave with anyone that night, and you were piss drunk.” When the accusation hit Felix stood up and pointed a gloved finger, but before she could let loose her words of angry denial, Val raised an eyebrow. Her jaw snapped shut with a click. “Come on, Felix. You know as well as I do that it’s no secret you like a drink and a pinch. But I really haven’t seen anyone around like that here… and it’s not too harsh of me to say. You were insensible.”

“Then what, I’m going mad?” Felix huffed sourly, gesturing around at the regulars of the Flying Horse. “I’ve got one man, old council member. Says he saw a woman of her description in here a few nights ago but that she wasn’t with anyone, didn’t give her name to anyone.” She pointed back to the silverhaired gentleman where he was busy philandering among the other patrons, as if that proved it.

“And I'm telling you, I didn't get her name either,” Val said slowly, tipping her head back in exasperation.

“So why is that?” Felix demanded. “If I can’t find her, I’ll be on this forever. I’ll never shut up about it.”

At that the barmaid looked positively ill, knowing the truth wasn’t far off. “Stick around until we close, then, and maybe she’ll turn up. Just don’t make a mess again.”

And so Felix did just that, deliberately picking a stool right by the door so that she could track the ingress and egress of every person that passed through it. At first her hawkish staring got a few mean looks, but after the sky started to wheel into the dark blues and purples of evening the foot traffic slowed, and her vigil grew laxer.

Late but not enough to be early, a musician began strumming on his lute. The notes carried high over the sound of low talk and clinking glass, and Felix felt herself flagging. The inn was emptying out fast.

_What if I’m wrong?_

She was beginning to feel like her obsession was unwarranted. Perhaps the sick fantasies of her slumbering mind were only attributable to her unhealthy habits and perverse nature. Maybe it was all a lark. A sign to cut back and get right.

Then, the inn's heavy door admitted a man.

Tall as a horse, workhand lean, and robed in light brown, he strolled right on through like he owned the place.

Something about that drew her in immediately. But she kept her head forward, nose in her drink.

Felix felt the brush of long sleeves as he took his seat beside her at the bar. Val wordlessly served him something black in the bottle but a fragrant green in his cup, and as he took a sip she couldn’t help but sneak a glance, to follow the curve of his jaw as he swallowed.

_You're not a regular. Why the special treatment?_

His intentions were plain, but he seemed content to keep to himself. Why he'd chosen to drink next to her specifically, at a bar that could keep a dozen upright and was nearly empty tonight, perplexed her enough to warrant asking. She raised her glass to hide the nervousness in her voice.

_Please don’t say ‘I’m here to kill you for sleeping with my wife.’_

Feeling it out as she spoke, Felix framed her question in a layer of polite curiosity. "Plenty of room, stranger. Why right here? Lucky seat?"

Hardly bothered, he turned at the waist with a smile and winked. Felix felt her mouth go a bit dry and took another sip as he spoke. “Oh, no reason at all."

His voice reminded her of a rich and satiating meal, pitched low and just loud enough for her to hear, as if he was sharing a secret. Eyes narrowed, she huffed and downed her glass in one swallow.

“Convincing. Maybe you should try again,” she suggested, “with feeling, this time.”

Something about those words caused his smile to deepen, and he drew himself up taller where he sat.

“Oh,” he said with an air of disinterest. “It's simply that no sooner than I entered did I spy a little beauty, drinking alone and looking far too serious.” He dropped the pretense slowly, grinning. "So you see. No reason at all."

The self-satisfaction in his expression did very little for her, but she pressed on, genuinely intrigued.

Tone light, she offered him a goodnatured smile. "An actor, are you?"

He made an attempt at sobering gravity, but it came out wrong, as if he had been caught in a lie. "Absolutely."

Felix raised a hand lazily and caught the attention of Val, who had just shown a small plate of charcuterie to a table in the back of the inn and was wiping her hands on a cloth. She came over, and looked strangely taken aback by the man beside Felix, like she was seeing him for the first time. A terrible feeling crept into her chest; the barmaid had served him only minutes ago.

“Why hello. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before. Here to join the new King’s militia?” When he shook his head, she seemed to come into herself again and turned to Felix with nervous eyes.

“Another, please." She patted the rim of her glass. “My last, perhaps.” This seemed to draw the attention of the stranger, and he leaned back in his chair with a smirk as he finished his odd-smelling beverage in response.

"I'm all good here too," he stated happily, and nudged her with another wink.

“If you... say so.” Val snatched up her glass uneasily. She shakily ran the tap into it, pausing once or twice to let the foam settle. When it had filled, she disappeared into the back room of the kitchen, an unmistakable retreat.

 _Sheesh. He really spooked her_.

Felix waited around for a few minutes, nursing her drink, but it didn't seem that Val would be coming back out any time soon, and perplexing as that was...

It had grown quiet. The lutenist who had been playing earlier was gone, confirmed when she stole a glance at where he'd been seated by the window. His absence felt like an omen. Every move she made sounded very loud to her, rustling cloth and thready breathing.

The stranger had managed to make Felix feel isolated, in a way.

_Too serious?_

Slowly turning to face him again, Felix tried to take in his features as best she could. Milky white skin with pitch black hair. Low, pinned collar, a dull tan that almost faded into the sandy brown of his outer robe. His eyes were… equally brown. She squinted. She was certain they were, dull and solid. He could be anyone. A highly forgettable man, save his relative good looks.

“Would you,” she paused, quickly reordering her thoughts and intentions as she came to a decision both measured and insane. “Would you like to get out of here?”

That affable act evaporated into nothingness, and he then shot her a wicked look of delight. “Are you inviting me on a stroll, my dear?” He leaned in closer, and she couldn’t be sure that his irises weren’t black.

“If that’s what it takes,” Felix admitted. Standing, she only swayed once or twice when she bent to collect her bow. Then she offered, rather bravely, her arm for him to link with.

And he did, sliding his own through it demurely, as though scandalized. Like she had done something highly improper in front of what few patrons had yet to crawl home. “It doesn’t take a lot,” he stated knowingly. His grip on her was firm but light, and she wondered whether he would tighten it if she pulled away.

When they made it over the bridge his pace started to slow, and she matched it reluctantly.  _Stalling, are we?_

If she was wrong, the man was a horrendous flirt. _If I’m right…_ She wet her lips in anticipation and pulled closer. _Then I'm walking into a showdown._

They turned off the main road into a street that would invariably lead them into the neighborhoods of Ardougne.

His house was storied, with a small iron gate and a bland façade. Felix felt her stomach turning as he fumbled obviously with his keys in the low light, pausing to wave merrily at someone gawking through their open window. Cordial and neighborly, as though he was not on his doorstep attempting entry with a woman. They drew the shutters with a scowl. _At least that’s relatively normal._

He finally held up the right key. He slid it slowly into the lock in an unnecessarily triumphant, if not downright suggestive, display. It was ridiculous. She had to stifle a smile at the mere thought of encouraging that sort of behavior.

Inside, his home was furnished modestly. Lining shelves were books packed between stone supports, and some low chairs were crowded around the unlit hearth. There was only one doorway, leading into a hall that ended in a staircase. As he gently guided her toward it, Felix surmised they would be skipping tea.

When they mounted the last stair, he turned to her with hands raised and those wide palms found her hips. With startling familiarity, he crowded her backwards into a small alcove likely meant for storage. It was darker there, beyond the cast of light from the moon and the lamps. The halogen glow of them began to extinguish one by one; the crier making his rounds. The man lifted her bow from the strap on her back and it clattered loudly as it hit the floor. He reached to undo her cloak.

_Tell me…_

Felix could feel her mind begin to spin.

His face came closer, breath smelling of that potently verdant drink. She inhaled slowly and drew her arms around him, inviting an embrace. He stepped into the space she'd created, but the difference in their heights became more apparent and so he knelt down with her, tugging at her clothes.

Heavy hands stroked across her back insistently. Parted lips barely touched hers, a soft tease, and their breathing tangled.

_Why does this feel so good?_

The shadows were edging nearer in their excitement, and as the darkness grew, he spoke.

" _Felix._ "

She closed her hands around his throat. His stability was vulnerable, on his knees like that, and she easily unbalanced him.

His back crashed against the floor and his arms tightened reflexively, forcing her against his chest. Felix formed a chokehold like a thrasher vine’s vice, intensifying when he struggled.

“Tell me who you are.” It was a command. Her heart _pulsed_ in her chest. The rhythmic motion would make her sick, prolonged.

His eyes widened momentarily but then shrank into familiar slits. She wanted to crow victory and scream in terror at the same time.

“Tell me who you are, _snake,_ ” Felix whispered, and she could feel her nails biting into his skin, then, the skin that he had borrowed or created for disturbing purposes. “You _know_ I know. But I want to hear you say it.” _I’d like to clear my conscience._

Behind narrowed lids he regarded her with malice, but what flew from his mouth was strained, high laughter. If his arms were solid around her before, they became like a cage.

Then, strangely, the shapeshifter relaxed in her hold. His head fell against the wooden slats below them with a mild thunk. He smiled dreamily up at her.

A shy little murmur of, “oh, you’d never believe it," and he drew his legs up into a flexed position, hurling himself forward.

She hit the floor harder than he had; most of the air was knocked out of her lungs. Fortuitously, her grasp around his neck did not loosen. Felix kicked both legs and found them trapped beneath him.

_Damn!_

“Adorable,” the man drawled, and she struggled more. “You actually caught me. How interesting. It took you quite a while, though I must admit I’ve loved every moment of it.”

Felix felt her ire rising but she bit down on it, exhaling to vital capacity. “That’s great. Now show yourself, there isn’t a point in pretending you look like that,” she hissed.

“Isn’t there,” he wondered, peering down at her judgmentally. “What if I prefer this form? Would you really deprive me of that comfort?”

 _I would like nothing more than to make you_ very _uncomfortable._

“You’re a disgusting coward, Sliske,” Felix spat, wrestling against his arms as he attempted to unpin her hands from the long column of his throat. “I would never sleep with you, and that you attempted to trick me into doing so is despicable!”

“Such virtue!” He set an admonishing look upon her, and with a slight shiver swallowed beneath her palms. “No need for overt protestations. I can see you're angry. You really shouldn’t be.”

She was on the wind up for a really slick rejoinder when he finished his thought, and those biting words died long before they reached her tongue. “We’ve had sex many, many times,” Sliske stated impishly.

Blatant disbelief colored her voice. “ _What_?”

Long moments passed.

There was no change in his bawdy expression, nor any indication that what he had said was the set up for some zany joke.

A mouth that was not his smiled, patient. “You see me now, don’t you,” he crooned, “the son of a farmer that could belong in any pasture?” She felt her eyebrows pinch and Sliske’s lips — borrowed or stolen — fell open slightly, like he took pleasure in her frustration. “Wouldn’t it be just as easy to be the farmer himself? Or his wife?”

It finally occurred to her then what he was implying.

“I’m going to kill you,” Felix snapped, and she made to do just that, exerting the full force of her strength on strangling the life out of him. He made a terrible sound and jerked forward, grinding himself against her.

Appalled, she grit her teeth and fiercely pushed back, attempting to gain some purchase so that she could roll them.

Sliske resisted her, but only barely. Eyes narrow and beginning to glow ominously the disguised mahjarrat lowered himself such that he was nearly crushing her, and her hold on his windpipe slipped a bit.

“You can try,” he encouraged lightly, “or we can do something infinitely better with our time than argue over whether or not I’ve driven you to mind-blowing ecstasy. And I _have_. Recently.”

_You fucking coward. You evil, deceiving rat!_

Felix wanted so badly to scream. Instead, she tried to buy more time. “And what is that? Will we now decide on how you intend to ravage me? Is that how you like your partners, unwilling and terrified?”

It was like she had dumped him in a river midwinter. Sliske jerked backward and were it not for the vicious stay of her hands he might have risen completely.

He spoke blandly. “Are you telling me you _really_ only intended to ambush me?” Offense was written all over his face, and as she watched him grow angrier his guise began to fall— brown eyes developed a luminously jasper hue and in moments his sclera had blackened. His skin, once a pale ivory, flushed a dark gray.

Felix snarled at him in disbelief. “You seriously want me to believe that you’re a gentleman, after all that?”

Sliske sucked in air through his rapidly reforming teeth and hissed, furious. “You threw yourself at me!”

“What the hell are you saying?” Felix barked back.

It was enough. He easily extracted himself from her grasp, and those hands dropped to brace herself against the floor. His shifting form retreated against a nearby dresser, shoulders hunching. He gained several inches of height and his gait, large for a man already, widened severely. Those treacherous claws she remembered seemed to simply occur. They gouged the wood when he attempted to straighten himself, and Felix could see the beginnings of true rage lighting in him as it had in her minutes before.

“I only wanted more. You offered, again and again, and I took. It didn’t matter who I was, what role I played—you kept finding me.” His words had a murderously bitter tone to them, and Felix reflexively shifted backward, arms raised in preparation for combat. He _had_ beaten her nearly dead once before.

But her mouth ran on, the price of drink. “You’re insane,” she countered angrily, “and delusional.” Sliske’s expression grew dangerously wicked then, and he laughed, a grating scrape.

“You,” he rasped, winded by her assault, “are potentially even madder than I. And far more deluded!” He gave her no time to respond, demanding instead, “who asked whom out to play tonight, hmm?”

The question dried up Felix’s series of readied responses. The following pause was short but very telling, of that she was certain, and she wanted absolutely nothing more of herself to be revealed to the mahjarrat. “You’re playing games, again,” she accused. “You know I did, because I was _on to you_. Because the last three days have been nothing but a confusing mess of memory loss, self doubt, and these _fucking shadows_!” As her speech rose into a shout, she swept a trembling hand at the creeping darkness that still danced and played around them.

It was well past the witching hours, only a sliver of moon hanging in the sky. Turning away from her for a moment Sliske paced to the window and threw the shutters closed. Had Felix not been so tensed already she might have jumped at the sound. Instead, it gave her time to get her bearings.

She whipped around in search of her bow and spied it lying fallen on the landing of the stairs, discarded in their strange moment of intimacy.

Still rather vulnerable on the floor, Felix made to grab her weapon, but he turned back just as quickly and advanced with a menacing smile.

“There. Now, how about some light?” He flicked a wrist and every candle in the room spouted into leaping flame. That _did_ startle Felix, enough to glance back down at her bow.

It was a tactical error. When she looked up, he was before her, finger crooked beneath her chin. Their gazes locked. Something familiar stirred her heart into motion again.

He was completely himself, alien ridges and striped skin a striking contrast against the plain brown robes of his prior disguise. When he spoke, she could admit finally that her situation had become very dire indeed.

“How many strangers have you taken to bed?” Sliske crooned snidely. Her disgust with him must have been palpable, because he continued. “Don’t mistake me for vain; there’s nothing so attractive as experience.”

“I don’t know, Sliske,” Felix whispered tightly, chin jerking away from his hand in an impatient twist. “I guess I do get around. But that has _never been_ and never will be any of your business.” His dry look gave her pause. She appended her statement with a degree of wariness. “You’re a maniac if you think your… obsession with me means you get to dig into my sex life."

His obvious frustration was concerning at best and it didn’t seem like she was getting through to him. Voluntarily, she tried to backtrack their words so far.

Something about what he'd said wasn’t adding up appropriately and Felix couldn’t seem to understand how that could be.

Sliske searched her face for tells, scowling. “You _are_ putting me on,” he stated seriously.

“I’m not!” When he rudely hushed her she glared up at him.

“I have _neighbors_ ,” he threatened.

If that was what he was so concerned about, Felix felt justified in bringing the whole fucking hovel to the ground with her screams, but that would likely invoke another altercation. And she was unarmed.

“You’re going to have to be really fucking clear, Sliske,” she whispered, tight with fury. “And ‘you kept finding me!’ isn’t going to help. _What the hell does that mean_?” She gestured wildly around them, at his robes, at herself. “What does any of this night mean?”

_He masquerades as _at least_ partially lucid. Has he completely lost his mind?_

A small noise escaped him and Sliske _really_ looked at her then, slatted eyes radiating heat. He made a motion as if to touch her and she shifted back, putting hardly a foot between them.

He must have realized something she hadn’t, like that couldn’t explain the last three hours, because he was insistent then and the contempt in his words had evaporated.

“You have done absolutely sinful things to my body, you sweet fool,” he said lowly, and she couldn't summon the energy to defend that accusation before he spoke again. “I have had you in nearly every way. Tipsy, sober. Perhaps on one or two delightful occasions in psychedelically altered states of consciousness." His eyes trailed thoughtfully somewhere above and to the left of her. “In any case, every time I came to you as someone I was not, and _every_ time you tried to have me for yourself. Except that night.”

_Dear Gods, what is he saying._

Felix was finally catching on to what Sliske was claiming to be true, and if it _was _, her whole week was ruined.__

__She struggled to build a case on those hazy memories of the Flying Horse, watching that gorgeous woman watch her, waiting, hoping to speak to her, and then being disappointed when she disappeared._ _

She thought about all the nights she spent bunking with strangers in the Kharidian and in Morytania, drinking the worst beer she'd ever had in Yanille, and even sleeping with an incredibly gorgeous elf in Prifddinas.

_That lass was… so flexible._

“You were all of them?” Her demand rung out flat, the tone of emergent belief coloring her voice. Felix was floored. “You impersonated dozens of people, all to seduce me?”

Sliske seemed energized by the prospect of a productive conversation, but still he chastised her. “No, Felix, you asked _me._ Sought out me. Seduced me. The only occasion I've ever done anything…" He paused, a terrible grin lighting his features. “ _Questionable_ to you was a few nights ago. You didn’t ask me to dance, as it were.”

Felix genuinely attempted to remember anything beyond getting back to her camp, but she couldn't. “I don’t recall.”

He turned his head, imitating sympathy. “Is that why you came back? To find your gorgeous damsel?”

Felix was still feeling a little shell-shocked and so what came out of her mouth next could be excused by that, and possibly the fact that she was still drunk. “Is this really your house?”

“Yes,” he spat petulantly, likewise taken aback. “Of course. It came into my possession a very long time ago.”

There was a beat of silence. Felix made to stand, and in a strange act of clemency Sliske allowed it, leaning away.

“That’s your bed, then?” It stretched seemingly from one corner of the room to the other, which made sense given his stature. Felix was momentarily distracted by several thoughts, all by turns alarming in nature.

He looked at her in total exasperation. “No, I stole it. Yes, of course it’s _mine_.”

She looked at him, and then the bed.

“Have we… have I… seen this bed before?” She frowned as the question fell short of dignified.

Sliske threw his head back and laughed. “I’m delighted to say that you have never _seen_ that bed, World Guardian."

Mentally spiraling, she walked over to it, examining the plain headboard and stroking the covers. _Silk._ She sat on the edge and hardly made a sound, though the mattress easily moved to surround her in a supportive, comfortable cloud.

 _I feel… practically weightless._ Felix could sense his gaze upon her. He was an absolute wall to read, foreign and mercurial, but right then his eyes were clearly searching hers for some sign of recognition, memories of that night.

She had learned a lot about the nature of their relationship in a span of very few minutes, but she needed to know one last thing.

She posed the question neutrally, ready for the same icy reaction she'd received earlier. “Did you dishonor me here?” Felix really hoped he hadn’t. She could feel herself sinking backwards into the bed already, limbs beyond tired and head warning to ache. It was a high-quality piece of furniture and she wouldn’t have minded sleeping there.

_I might end up sleeping here._

Confusion started to dissolve in the solution of her building exhaustion, replaced by wary anticipation. Citrine irises regarded her carefully. “You fell asleep before the fun could begin. I assumed you overdid it, and not wanting to explain myself, I held you for a while and returned you to your campsite.”

Felix tried her best to remember, and then she did, at least a little bit.

_She kissed me._

_There were ashes…_

_You_ held me _while I was sleeping?_

The energy in the room took a nosedive as Felix finally came to a decision about what she'd learned.

“There are Mahjarrat that value consent,” she said drowsily as she knocked off each boot. Felix crawled beneath the smooth bedsheets. “One of them is… you, apparently. Gods, am I tired.”

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was the exasperated flick of a wrist, and candles sputtering out.

 

* * *

 

_I am so warm._

Felix’s eyes snapped open and then shuttered against the brilliance of the light. _Is the fire still going?_

When she had finally adjusted enough to peak out at her surroundings, they did not in any way resemble the creamy beige of her Kyatt-fur tent. Nor the windowed view from within it of the River Dougne, or the sprouting leaves and grasses dotting its bank.

_I camped in the place where humans first came so I could remember the story for Minas._

As she struggled to clear her mind she took in the sight of the silken coverlet draped over her, the feeling of the deep, soft bed. The utterly mundane walls she remembered from last night were a tidily painted crimson and purple. Felix blinked. _Does this room have proper ventilation?_

“You’re awake, no use playing coy,” a voice murmured hotly in her ear. Thrills ran up her spine and she shivered, hesitating to look behind her. There on the bed, of course, was Sliske. Although for some reason he was chastely lounging above the covers.

 _This is going to turn me strange_ , Felix mused.

“Ready to start yelling, then?” He spoke low, coarse with filthy intent. As sleep's drug faded she realized that she was gaping, struck dumb by how compromised her situation had become. Fully sober, such that every moment of last night was thrown in stark relief, she closed her mouth and glared.

“I was hoping not. It might be terribly funny if you started choking me again—”

Her first judgement of the day was _this is so fucking wrong_.

Felix had been explicitly tasked with the protection of Gielinor from the machinations of the Gods. _This man, mahjarrat, whatever, is my sworn enemy_. It was likely her inevitable destiny to destroy him. _Especially_ if he continued with his reckless use of the Stone. Frankly, from what she knew of Sliske and the twisted ways he had deceived her and others, he deserved to die.

“How did you put it,” he thought, tapping his chin with a claw, “insane and delusional? It certainly won’t be the first time I’ve enjoyed the fantasy of you, only for it to,” he mimed a small explosion with his free hand, a gentle unfurling of fingers. “Go up in smoke.”

But now Felix had to assimilate a _new_ version of the man, one that drove her wild. She was beginning to match in her mind what encounters they must have had, when he wore the face of another. Perhaps it had been foolhardy of her, but she had concluded that her enticing good looks and winning personality was what had drawn all those tantalizing people her way.

Instead, it was just him. If Sliske hadn’t lied. She had read the crowd, and selected him in disguise.

 _He could have played into my interests,_ Felix debated internally. _What if he just really knows my type?_

“What did we do? In Nardah?”

He paused mid-diatribe and his syrupy look became contemplative. “I believe I fingered you in Wahisietel’s home.”

She nearly choked on her words. “ _That was Ali’s house?_ ”

Sliske’s pleased grin did little to assuage her. “There are hundreds of people named Ali in the Kharidian Desert, my dear.” He flexed his claws eagerly. “But yes, it was his home we defiled. You came all over his most prized—”

There was nothing for it.

She kissed him. If for no other reason than to force him not to complete that thought, because Gods, _she could_ never _go back there now—_

And the world didn’t end, not yet anyway.

Nothing happened, other than that he enthusiastically pressed her into his bed and fisted those still-foreign feeling hands in her hair.

Felix had adapted to worse situations.

By a very, very tiny margin.

 _But this will take some getting used to,_ she thought, and carefully touched him back.

 


End file.
